Chapter 38
Colter
Ben’s sitting cross-legged at the dining room table, tongue between his teeth, trying to concentrate while his new tutor, Mrs. Harper, explains a math problem using a set of colorful fraction tiles and a dry-erase board shaped like a barn.
Kayla watches from the living room we never use, pretending to be occupied with her book. I know she’s doing her own assessment of the new tutor. It’s in the way she nods when Mrs. Harper says something encouraging, the way her eyes soften when Ben gets it right.
She’s good at this. Always has been. She just doesn’t realize it. She calls it imposter syndrome, claims it’s normal for new teachers.
After an hour of math and hovering parents, Mrs. Harper wraps up with a cheerful, “Great job, Ben! I’ll see you Thursday,” and Kayla walks her out, leaving me alone in the front foyer with a boy who’s somehow growing faster every week.
Ben catches me looking and shrugs. “She’s okay, I guess.”
“That’s high praise coming from you,” I tease, ruffling his hair.
He ducks away with a grin and runs off to find Pippy, who’s still riding the high of her debut as Party Dog of the Century.
Kayla comes back inside, rubbing her arms like she’s shaking something off. “She’s good,” she admits, albeit reluctantly. “Firm but kind. I think it’ll be a good fit.”
I nod, watching her. She’s been a little quieter than usual since the party. Not distant, exactly. But thoughtful. Restless. Like her brain’s walking laps while the rest of her is standing still.
“You’ve been weird,” I say plainly.
She lifts her brows. “I’m just going to miss spending time together, even if it was just math tutoring,” she shrugs, but we both know that’s not what I’m talking about.
“No. Not about Ben, who, by the way, would spend time with you any day if you asked.” She tries to physically evade what’s coming next, the question she doesn’t want to answer.
She darts around me, heading for the kitchen, and I follow closely behind.
She’s not taking off this time. “I’m talking about since the party.
Since I said Fletcher and Faith were Ben’s aunt and uncle. You got this look on your face.”
She bites her lip, hesitating, and then sighs. “It just caught me off guard. Like, how is that already what people think? How is it that I’m that person to him already?”
“You are, though,” I say gently, stepping closer. “You’ve been part of his everyday life for months. He doesn’t care what people call it. You’re there. You love him. And he knows it.”
She blinks up at me, those Bambi eyes a little glassy. “I do. I really do. I just didn’t expect it to feel so big. So fast.”
“It was already big before we gave it a name.” I cup her cheek, thumbing along her cheekbone.
“You were already here. Living with him, taking care of him when I wasn’t here.
Nothing’s changed for him.” Her shoulders drop like she’s been carrying something she didn’t realize was heavy until now.
“And nothing’s going to change,” I promise.
“He still has the same people in his life. You’ve just got a bigger room in the house now. ”
She lets out a soft laugh, one of those ones that makes me feel like I just did something right. “Is it okay that I feel overwhelmed sometimes?”
“Only if I get to feel overwhelmed too.”
That earns me a smile, real and wide. After a beat of comfortable silence, I ask, “You ever think about having more?”
“More what?”
“Kids.”
Her eyes widen, and then she smirks. “That’s a hell of a segue.”
“Don’t panic,” I laugh. “I’m not saying now. I just—I’ve been thinking about it. Wondering if you ever saw that for yourself.”
She sinks into the couch, the sunlight filtering through the window and catching on the highlights in her hair. “Honestly? I used to think I didn’t want kids. That I wouldn’t know how to be a mom. I never really had someone to show me the ropes growing up, you know?”
My shoulders tense, the way they always do when she mentions her past so nonchalantly.
She promised me months ago that extensive therapy had made her past bearable, and besides the one nightmare after Ben’s birthday, she does seem to accept her past for what it is—over and done with.
But the thought of her mother still makes me want to punch something.
I don’t think that urge will ever go away.
I take a breath and ground myself—something I manage to do without touching grass, which has become Kayla’s new favorite saying. We have more serious things to talk about right now. “But now?”
She lifts a shoulder. “Now I can’t picture not having my own family.
I look at Ben, and yeah, he’s chaos with legs, but he’s also joy.
And even though I didn’t even know you, or Ben, or even Castlebrook existed nine years ago, I still feel like I missed out on the big stuff.
The important stuff. I want to experience that. ”
God help me, that about kills me.
“I’d like that,” I say quietly. “If we ever decide we’re ready. I’d like that a lot.”
Her voice softens. “You would?”
“I miss it,” I admit. “Those little years. The snuggly stage. The way they look at you like you’re magic.” I pause, giving her a sideways glance. “Though I wouldn’t mind skipping the diaper part.”
She laughs, full and loud. “But you’re the expert. You put your best player in the field.”
“Oh yeah? In what sport?”
She hesitates, chewing the inside of her cheek as she contemplates my question. “Uh? All of them?”
Swallowing a laugh, I kiss the top of her head, letting my lips linger there. “I fucking love you.”
She pulls back just enough to look up at me. “I love you too.” And even though it’s not the first time she’s said it, or even the second, my heart still skips in excitement, knowing those words are for me.
“And you’re sure you’re not gonna run?” I ask with a teasing grin.
“I already told you,” she says, stepping into my space and tugging on the hem of my shirt. “I don’t ever want out.”
And just like that, I know that no matter what comes next, we’re already a family. Titles or no titles, wedding or not. What we’ve got is real. And we’re not done building it.
Not even close.
The bleachers creak under me as I shift, arms folded across my chest, eyes tracking Ben as he stands in line for his turn to bat. He’s determined. A little wild. Like Mandy always says, he’s my son.
The sun’s high and hot, making the red dust glow like wildfire every time someone kicks up their cleats. Pippy’s panting at my feet, tongue lolling, wearing her little Castlebrook Cougars bandana like she’s the official team mascot.
“You’d think this was the MLB with the size of this crowd,” Sylvie jokes as she slides into the row beside me, sunglasses perched on top of her mess of curls. Mandy’s right behind her with one of those insulated water bottles that looks more like tactical gear than hydration.
“He’s got a solid fan club,” I say, nodding toward the group forming behind us—Jake and Finn, Penny and Granger, his great aunt Sue. They all pulled away from their Saturday chores to come holler for one scrawny kid whose helmet is a little too big for his tiny head.
Sylvie eyes the dugout and then glances back at Kayla, who’s sitting two rows down beside one of her teacher friends, Betty something. She was supposed to go quickly, say hi, then come back, but twenty minutes later, she's still sitting there.
I’m not jealous. I’m totally fine.
Kayla’s clapping and yelling with the rest of the crowd, laughing whenever Ben does something particularly dramatic, like that full-body lunge to stop a foul ball.
“She’s really in it,” Sylvie says, and I don’t think she’s talking about the game.
“Always has been.”
Sylvie leans her elbows on her knees and hums. “And you? You ready for what comes next?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you two are solid. She’s basically stepmomming that boy better than some women who’ve been doing it for ten years. People are already talking, wondering when you’re gonna make it official.”
I glance down at Kayla. She’s got her hair in a loose braid, sunglasses propped on her nose, one hand holding a cherry lollipop she probably bribed Ben with earlier.
“She’s already mine,” I say simply.
Mandy smiles, slow and knowing. “That’s sweet, Colter. But some folks might say you oughta show her that.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, clearing my throat. “Some folks don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.”
Sylvie chuckles. “We’re just saying. Whenever you’re ready to put a ring on her finger, you have our approval.”
“Well, thank you for that, but we have a ways to go until we’re there.” If our conversation from earlier is any indicator, then she’s gonna need a bit more time to adjust, which is fine by me. She can adjust as much as she wants as long as it’s by my side.
“It’s okay to be scared,” Mandy shrugs, clearly misunderstanding my words. I bristle.
“Who says I’m scared?”
Sylvie and Mandy both raise a brow like they know better.
Before I can argue, the crack of a bat slices through the heat, and Ben takes off running for first. The bleachers erupt, Kayla shouting loudest of them all. “Run, Bud! Go!” She’s half on her feet, arms pumping like she’s gonna run with him.
He makes it, barely, and throws his arms up like he just won the World Series. Pippy barks and spins in a circle, and the whole damn crew hollers like our boy just hit a grand slam.
Kayla turns around and looks up at me, laughing, and I swear the breath leaves my lungs like someone punched it out of me. Because she doesn’t just love him.
I stand, stretching a kink out of my back. “I’m not scared,” I mutter.
Sylvie gives me a sideways smile. “Good.”
“You have no idea,” I say, eyes locked on Kayla as she drops back into her seat, cheeks flushed, still grinning at the field like it’s the best place in the world. And then, I go and get my girl.